Under the Microscope
by fawkes21
Summary: An inside look at the thoughts/feelings of our favorite characters...
1. You Think You Know Me

Author's Note: Well I think my muse has kicked into overdrive – yet another idea that just couldn't wait. I figure starting a new story while there are still two works in progress either makes me a brilliant multi tasker – or a masochist. This is a series of first person POV by all the characters – yep, that includes the secondary characters as well. It is my take on what they are really thinking/feeling. I actually got the format by a writer by the name of revivingophelia over in the Wrestling section. So I am giving credit where it's due (in other words, don't sue me!). Same thing with the characters – they are not mine, I am just trying them out to see what I can do with them.

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Gil Grissom is an idiot. 

Not that he doesn't know what he's doing. When it comes to his job, he is definitely on top of his game. But I think he is an idiot, the way he lets his team run all over the place, doing whatever they want and bending the rules to suit their needs. If my guys did that, the big man would have my head on a platter. But because it is Saint Grissom, everyone is willing to turn a blind eye. And if he does screw up, which is rare, everyone will run around and make sure that his ass is covered.

I shouldn't let it bother me. I mean, he must be doing something right, because his team solves the cases that everyone else thinks are unsolvable. But it just irks me the way that everyone looks at him with awe in their eyes. They look at him like he is the icon that all other CSI's should strive to be like. Some of them, like Nick and Sara, do just that. The way those two run around like Grissom's little lap dogs just makes me sick. But much as it irritates me, it also makes me jealous. I wish that my team acted like that sometimes. I wish that I had a team that would bend over backwards trying to help me. I like my team and they do good work, but we don't have that same rapport that Grissom and his team do. I act like it doesn't bother me, but it does. It bothers me more than anyone knows. But I can't tell them. No, I am supposed to be mean ol' Ecklie. I am the Goliath to Grissom's David. The devil to his angel. I am the bad guy around here.

I can see it, even now as I walk down the halls of headquarters. Eyes look away, backs are turned and conversations suddenly cease when I appear. I pass by Warrick and make an effort to be professional. I smile at him and nod, and am rewarded with a look of indifference for my attempts. There is even a bit of contempt in his eyes. It is like he is angry at me for something I haven't even done yet. Or maybe he is just angry for any previous transgressions that I have committed. I continue walking even though I want to run back, grab him by the shoulders and ask him why he hates me so much. I haven't done anything to him personally. I haven't done a lot of things to anyone personally. I can understand why Grissom hates me. We are like oil and water; we don't see eye to eye. And he annoys me so much that most times I can't even be bothered to make the effort to be civil. I understand that. I don't like everyone I work with and I shouldn't expect everyone to like me. Yet people seem to hate me by association around here. They hate me because of the problems Grissom and I have. But they have no reason to dislike me. I know that Nick hates me because of the investigation I led into the death of that hooker he was seeing. But he doesn't understand that I was just doing my job. Does he really think that I would be so malicious as to try and get him fired because of my beef with Grissom? Rhetorical question. I tried to explain it to him afterwards, but he would have none of it. If we had been outside of the building I am sure he would have spit on me. Oh hell, he probably would have set me on fire. I wish that he and the rest of Grissom's team didn't hate me. I know that I am here to work, not to make friends, but it sure would be nice to have someone ask me how my day was. It would be nice if someone could flash me a smile once in a while, instead of looking at me like I am the Anti-Christ. No one here knows me. They think they do, but they don't. No one takes the time to find out what I am like outside of work. I will be the first to admit that I am not one of those sugary-sweet individuals but I am not on par with Lucifer either. I am a man who likes to take my dogs for walks, eat good Italian food and watch classic movies.

They don't know any of this. 

I can live without them knowing the mundane details of my life. But sometimes I want to scream at them that there is a reason that I come across as so harsh and unfeeling at times. I grew up in the type of house where rules and structure were the name of the game. It's all I know how to do. I can't turn it on and off whenever I feel like it. They don't seem to understand this. They think that I like to be anal retentive and rigid. While it's true that I do sometimes, I also wish I could be more free spirited. It kills me to admit it, but I admire Sanders. I watch him in the lab, bouncing around with that "devil may care" attitude and I am envious. I wish I could me more like him. I wish I didn't care what people thought about me. I wish I could let loose once in a while. I used to know how to separate my real life and my work life. I used to know that this was only a job. But when my wife left me, I forgot all that. Work is the only thing that I have left now. I eat, sleep and breathe it. It is the only thing that I am good at anymore. I was obviously not very good at the marriage thing. They don't know that either. They never bother to ask. For all they know, or care, I am still married. But they never asked, so I'll never tell. I look at the calendar and the reasons for my sudden pity party become abundantly clear: Today would have been our anniversary. I wonder where she is today. That's all I can do anymore. The wondering is the worst part. I hate this day, and I always will. It reminds me that my life fell apart. I lost my love, I lost my old life and I lost myself. That is why I act the way I do. I wish I could put out a memo and let them all know that they shouldn't judge me. Everybody has a story. Mine defines who I am. I look at the clock. My shift is almost over. I grab my coat and start to leave the building. I pretend I don't feel the hate and loathing that emanate from everyone I pass. I quicken my pace and in my haste to get out, almost knock Catherine right off her feet.

"Whoa! Careful Conrad! Where's the fire?" 

I study her face. She is not quite teasing, but not quite angry either. She is the only one around here who doesn't give me dirty looks every time I walk through the door. Maybe she is just better at pretending to be civil than the rest of them are.

"Sorry Catherine. I just don't want to be here another minute."

"One of those days?" Is that actual sympathy in her voice? It's been so long that I can't even be sure.

"Something like that. Just a lousy, rotten day."

She smiles a genuine smile at me. It's been a while since I saw one of those, too. "Well cheer up Conrad. Things can only get better. Have a good night" With that, she waves at me and goes inside.

I get in my car and think about that short encounter. For the first time in ages, someone showed a little actual concern for me. It feels good. Maybe she's right. I mean, I have already been down as low as I can go. It's never too late to change. Tomorrow I will become the person I want to be. It won't be easy, but maybe I can make an effort to be a little less distant, a little less harsh and a little more approachable. Tonight I will walk my dogs, order in some Italian food and watch some old movies. Tomorrow is the first day of my new life. Tomorrow, I will start trying to be a better me.

But I still think Grissom is an idiot. 


	2. Daddy's Little Girl Grew Up

Author's Note: Thanks so much for the reviews! I am glad that you like it! I was bored in American Fiction today so I decided I may as well write the next chapter. I forgot to mention that all of the internal dialogues are occurring on the same night, hence the other character interaction. The characters are not mine and I make no money off of this – then again, I don't imagine anyone would jump and down to pay for this story.

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            People never cease to amaze me. Just when I think I have seen the very darkest parts of the human soul, something will happen that makes me wonder if there are any limits to what people are capable of doing to one another. Take tonight for example. I am sitting here, surrounded by tonight's cases and each is more troubling then the last. I am just reeling from the horrific nature of them. There was a gang rape of a thirty-eight year old woman at a motel just off the strip. She had been out drinking and ended up going with some man back to his room where he and his buddies took turns violating her. One bad decision destroyed her life. There was a young boy whose father beat him to death with a TV remote because he changed the channel accidentally during a pivotal moment in the basketball game. The father was trying to gamble off his debts and his frayed nerves combined with too much to drink caused him to do the unthinkable. There was woman in her mid-twenties that was stabbed to death by an unknown assailant on her way to her car after spending the evening at a friend's house. The guy took her wallet and left her bleeding to death in the street. She had tried to crawl back to her friend's house, but died on the front lawn. Someone killed her for whatever little money was in her wallet. Like I said, I am always amazed by a person's capacity for evil.

            It's that last case that is really getting to me tonight. Every time I hear about a young woman who is the victim of a crime, part of me thinks of Ellie. I worry about her so much, even though I am for all intents and purposes dead to her. But still, I can't help but be concerned for her. I wake up terrified every morning that today will be the day that I investigate her death. I love her so much, which is made painful by the fact that the emotion is not reciprocated. She likes me, and will tolerate my protective nature, but she has made it abundantly clear that she doesn't love me. The last time we spoke on the phone was over 2 months ago and as usual ended in a fight between us. I urged her to curb her wild ways and she told me that it was her life and she could throw it away if she wanted. Tempers flared and she finished the conversation by screaming: "I hate you! From now on, you don't have a daughter!".

Those were the last words I ever heard her speak to me.

I have tried to find her, but she has disappeared. I feel sometimes like I don't even have a daughter. If Ellie had her way, that would be a reality.

But I can't allow myself to dwell on the past tonight. I have a job to do. This job, even with all the bad that comes with it, is the best thing in my life. I love this job, even if I occasionally feel like I am playing second fiddle to Grissom and his team. Sometimes I think that my only purpose is to show up at the scene, make some snappy and maybe make an arrest or two. Actually, that's not fair. I like being the one to make the sarcastic comments. At least I have managed to keep a sense of humor. I like being the one who makes the jokes and witty quips. I don't know if they are always appreciated, but if I can raise a smile even once, then I think I am doing alright. If I can't bring a bit of levity to these types of grave situations, then I will just go mad. I think that the CSI's admire my ability to keep it light, even when things are incredibly bleak. They know that deep down I am just as concerned as they are about the victims of these crimes. It's this understanding and unspoken union that keeps me from begrudging them, even if they get all the glory and I get any blame. They are good people. They are my family now. I mean, Gil and Catherine are just wonderful people who are so knowledgeable about, not only the job, but life in general. You can always count on them to put things in perspective for you. Warrick and Nick, well they bring a sort of friendly competition to the job. They both want to be the best, which means that they always give two hundred percent effort. Greg brings that enthusiasm of youth to the job. I know some people get annoyed with him, but you can always count on him to bring a smile to your face. And Sara….

"Hey Jim?" a voice interrupts my thoughts. Well, speak of the devil.

"Hi Sara. What can I do for you?"

"It's what I can do for you. I wanted to see if you wanted anything from the deli. I am making a food run, and you look like you could stand to get a little bit of nutrients into your system."

"Well, I doubt that anything at the deli is bursting with nutrients. I think I'll pass."

She fixes me with a look. "You need to eat!" she admonishes me. "You're wasting away to practically nothing". I glance down at my belly and roll my eyes at her.

"If I agree to food, will you stop insulting my physique?" She laughs out loud then. 

"Deal. So what'll it be?"

"Pastrami on rye, no mustard."

"That's better" Her eyes twinkle with approval. She starts to leave.

"Drive carefully" The words slip out of my mouth before I know it. She winks at me.

"Yes, _Dad_". She leaves my office.

Okay, I know she was teasing me. But it's been a long time since anyone called me Dad. Ellie always called me Jim, as if she couldn't stand to admit that I held any paternal power over her. But hearing Sara say it makes me realize how much I miss having a daughter. But it's too late with Ellie. She has made the decision not to be my daughter anymore.

But if I did have a daughter, I would want her to be just like Sara.


	3. Wannabe

Author's Note: Well, I am so glad that everyone likes this story! I will continue with the minor characters for now (because let's face it: there are no stories about them!) but I will be getting to the main characters in later chapters. So if you haven't seen your favorite yet – don't worry, you will! As always they don't belong to me – CBS is being a meanie and doesn't want to share.

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I want to be a CSI.

I really do. If I were a CSI, then I might actually get to leave my AV lab (which I have termed "The Catacombs") once in a while. If I were a CSI, then I would get to walk around and show my identification and have people treat me as if I am a force to be reckoned with. If I were a CSI, then I would have the very cool job of piecing together exactly what happened – I could be the difference between the bad guys getting away, or a very long prison term for their crimes.

If I were a CSI, I might get some respect.

I guess that's really not fair of me to say. I don't think anyone here actually disrespects me. They trust my abilities and no one hesitates to ask for my help. But when you look at the big picture, I get lost somewhere around the edges. I am just the lowly AV specialist. My job is to play voyeur for Grissom and everybody else. I don't hate doing that because if I did, I wouldn't do it anymore. But sometimes I feel like the smarmy guy in the lab. It's kind of a joke with everyone that my eyes see every dirty detail. I know they are kidding, but sometimes it makes me feel like one of those dirty old men who sits in the movie theatres late at night, wearing oversized pants and watching the "adult" films. They think I get my kicks watching some of these tapes. The ironic thing is that for everyone one dirty tape, there are ten normal ones. They don't think about that. They think it is some great joke to make fun of me because I sit in my darkened lab and view some very bizarre tapes frame by frame. Of course, when I think about it that way, I see why they would make fun of me. 

That's not the point anyways. I can handle the good natured teasing because I know that they do respect my job. I think my problem is that they don't really respect me as a person. I mean, it's nowhere near as bad as the way they are with Ecklie. Man, if I were in his shoes, I would go looking for a new job. He comes into a room and people look like they want stone him to death. Yeah, Ecklie definitely has it worse than me. I still feel like no one respects me around here. I am here to serve them and that is where the relationship ends. They go out for breakfast after their shift, or maybe for drinks, and they never ask me to go. Would it be so bad if they tried to remember that I am a human being too? And that even though I am not really part of the team, I still play an important role? Maybe it's me, but their lack of interest in me is disrespectful. I don't think I need to be included every time they go out, but it would be nice to be invited once in a while. It's so strange: when we're at work, I feel like these guys are my friends. Especially Nick and Catherine. Those two always talk to me, maybe tease me a little, but it is just a comfortable friendly relationship. Yet not once have they made the attempt to include me in their plans outside of work. Well who knows, maybe today will be the day that they invite me along. Yeah. And maybe I will wake up rich and married to Julia Roberts.

This is all part of the reason why I want to be a CSI. Let's be honest, being a CSI is way cooler than working in the AV department. I would probably be pretty good at it too, except I seem to be pigeon-holed in the role of the computer geek. Now granted, I haven't really helped myself out in that department either. I am a computer geek. And I do know a scary amount of science fiction trivia. Yet that is only one facet of my personality. I do have a wild side. Well, at least I'd like to think I do. I suppose compared to most people, my wild side is pretty tame. But at any rate, I do like to cut loose. I happen to really like going out to the clubs. I am a sucker for a pretty lady. I have a blast going out and chatting up the women. I don't want you to think I am one of those creepy guys who hits on anything that moves. I enjoy meeting new people. Ok and I like getting some dates out of it too. Sadly, since my usual clubbing buddy was transferred to Houston, I haven't really had any one to hit the party scene with. This could explain my pathetic lack of prospects. Heck, sometimes even when I do meet people, they are turned off by the whole "computer geek" thing. I think they would find my being a CSI a whole lot sexier. Maybe that's not a great reason for wanting to become one. Better not mention that one to Grissom.

"Hey Archie!" A loud, exuberant voice protrudes my thoughts. Greg explodes through the door, looking completely out of place in the lab, as is usual. I have never seen anyone in my life that looks less like they belong somewhere. I am suddenly reminded of the old Sesame Street song, "One of These Things is Not Like the Other". I rub my eyes, since I have stupidly been staring at my computer screen since my mind started to drift about ten minutes ago. I look at Greg expectantly.

"Hey Greg. What's up?"

"Oh man, this is your lucky day. You see, Genevieve –that's this totally hot, and totally sexy girl I met – wants me to go out and hit the casinos with her while she's in town."  
  


I roll my eyes. A typical Greg story. I have no idea how this guy attracts as many ladies as he does. It's gotta be the hair.

"Greg, how is that my lucky day?"

"You didn't let me finish. She called to let me know that she is bringing along a friend. A friend who happens to be a lingerie model. She asked if I knew anyone who would be interested, and I told her I knew the perfect person: you".

I do not believe my ears. Not only do I now have a pending date with a girl who gets paid to lounge around in her underwear, but I am actually being invited to hang out with someone outside of work. Looks like my night just got a whole lot better. Maybe I should stop being so quick to judge these guys. And maybe I should give Greg an answer since he looks like he may actually burst with excitement.

"What time?" I reply with a grin. Greg pounds the desk happily.

"As soon as the shift is over. Oh, and by the way, I kinda told Genevieve that I was working as an independent film maker. And I sorta told her that you were starring in my new project. Bye!" He bolts before I can point out the million things wrong with that story.

An invite to hang out. A date with a hot chick. A new identity, at least for tonight. Tonight, Archie the AV geek is replaced by Archie, the movie star.

That's even sexier than a CSI.


	4. Who Wants to be Cool Anyways?

Author's Note: Ok, so I know that this chapter has been a long time coming. I was really trying to come up with plausible stories for the coroners, but alas, that wasn't meant to be. I just can't get a feel for those characters so I finally decided to omit them from the story. Sorry! I still don't own the characters or the show – if I did, it would air every night!

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Sometimes I feel like the village idiot.

I'm not saying that I am a stupid person; I know I'm not. But sometimes I get the feeling that everyone around here looks at me like some sort of buffoon. Like I am some sort of clown, here for the sole purpose of making everyone laugh. I hate that feeling. I'm glad that people find me light hearted but I don't like it when they give me the look. You know the look I mean – the one that they give you when they are wondering if you are being stupid on purpose. It's the look that makes me feel about two inches tall. It's the look that makes me want to crawl under the table and hide until I feel somewhat intelligent again.

It is the look that Grissom gives me all the time.

I think he knows that I am a valuable member of the team. Of course, with Grissom you can never be too sure of anything. He has said things that make me think that he appreciates my abilities, but he has never come right out and said so. He either gives me some sort of pseudo compliment in order for me to make his evidence a priority, or he gives me the look. Still, I think he considers me to be an important part of the team. Even if he doesn't know it, I do. I am a crucial part of the team. Which is why it bothers me that I am on the receiving end of the look a whole lot. Every time I have to talk to him I wonder if he'll give me the look. You think I would be used to the look by now, but I'm not. Every time I get the look, I want to disappear. The worst part of the look is that I know that I have the answers Grissom needs, yet he always manages to make me feel like I am the dumbest person alive. He doesn't like the way I present the information to him. I know that. I guess I knew it all along, but he confirmed it when he asked me why I always presented information with the theatrics and the drama. He came right out and called me on the way that I make a big production of giving him the answers he's looking for. He put me on the spot and I blurted out the truth:

"Because you make me nervous".

Oh God, how I wish I hadn't said that. I wish I had said anything but that. I showed him my true colors. Now he knows that he has that kind of power over me. I should have lied. I should have told him that I present the information the way that I do because…..well, I suppose there really is no good explanation for my presentation style. It's just me being me. Still, anything would have been better than the truth. Now every time I get the look, I know that he knows how I really feel. It was better when I was just getting the look because he thought that I was a goof off or a bit of a dork. But now I get the look and he knows that he is the reason that I act this way. Thanks a lot Grissom.

Now I am sure that people around here wonder why, if it bothers me so much, I don't just change my attitude. And to tell you the truth, I have thought about trying to be more serious. I have tried dressing more conservatively. I don't play my music in the lab as much anymore. My general demeanor is more subdued. Yet I still get the looks. This leads me to believe that no matter how hard you try, your reputation can't be erased. Over time it will erode, but it will always be there, lingering in the background. I don't think I have a bad reputation. I just think that it would be nice to have a reputation that is not limited to: "Greg's a goof, but he gets the job done". I don't mind being a goof. Believe me, I would rather be the way that I am then be like someone such as Ecklie. Now there is a guy who needs a change in attitude. He needs to lighten up. And much as I may hate the look that Grissom gives me, at least I don't get the look that Ecklie gets. He gets the looks that could cause you to freeze on the spot. Yeah, I'll stick to the look that I get. It may be condescending, but at least I don't have to worry about a hole being burned through my soul.

Sorry, I started rambling. Where was I? Oh yeah, my attitude. So I have been trying to change, to be a bit more professional. And even though I know that it is a change for the better, I can't help but feel like an imposter. I feel like I am a shadow of my former self. I remember when I started here and I had the wild, carefree attitude. Sure it rubbed some people the wrong way, but I felt like I helped lighten up the atmosphere around here. This place can be really depressing if you let it, and I know that I was able to bring a little relief to the days of the team. They would come in, I would be my usual un-cool self, give them the information they needed, and they would leave here with a smile on their faces. 

Except for Grissom.

Argh! I need to stop harping on that. I don't know why I care so much. It's not like I do a bad job, so I don't need to worry about him trying to get rid of me. I just wish he liked me more. It really sucks when you feel like your boss can only think of you in terms of your goofiness. I know that he knows that I do good work, but it sure would be nice for him to say it once in a while. Instead, I get the look. Dear God, how I hate the look. If I ruled the world, that look would be the first thing to go. Well, that and celery. I really dislike celery…..

Thankfully, the big boss comes in at this moment and breaks they bizarre train of thought that I was about to go off on. I look up and see Grissom standing next to me with a bag of evidence in his hand.

"Greg, I need you to run a DNA test on these clothes that were obtained from a rape victim. Run the results through the database and see if you can find a match."

"Will do." I don't want to say more because my mind is still stuck on how much I hate the look. I am almost afraid to look at him for fear that he will be giving me said look. I start to sort through the sample he has given me.

He is about to leave when he turns back to look at me. "Hey Greg?"

"Yeah?"

"Catherine told me that you came in on your own time today to run some samples on that murder from a couple of nights ago."

I nod. It's true; I came in early today because I had been frustrated with the lack of answers that my tests had produced. "Yeah, I came in. I had some free time and wanted to try and solve the problem for you. I guess I wasted my time – I didn't find anything. Sorry."

He shakes his head at me. "Don't apologize. I brought it up because I wanted to tell you that you didn't have to do that. You don't have to push yourself so hard."

"Yes I do" I blurt this out without thinking. God, why do I keep doing this? I need to stop giving him reasons to give me the look.

"Greg, I know you push yourself because you want to impress……the team" he hesitates for a second, watching my face. I give him what I hope is an impassive look. He continues. "But you need to know that we…I think you do a great job. And you don't need to spend what little personal time you have coming in here to try and prove that." 

Funny, his face has the same kind of look that mine must have when I told him that he makes me nervous. He is wearing that expression that suggests that he just revealed a little bit too much. He looks slightly flustered and he mutters a good bye and leaves my lab. Well, this is interesting. Gil Grissom actually giving me a compliment? I can't help but smile like a big dork. I got a look from him today but for once it wasn't one that made me feel dumb. It was a look of admiration and suddenly things are so much more worthwhile. I know the truth now. Grissom admitted that I do a good job. He conveyed something that resembled human emotion. This is awesome! I would love to jump around the lab, pumping my fists but that might seem over the top. So instead I will settle for running tests on this evidence, trying to live up to Grissom's newly revealed attitude about me. For the first time in a long time, I feel less like the village idiot and more like a valued member of this cohesive unit. I am a knowledgeable, appreciated member of this team….who happens to be a big dork.

But I think I like it better that way.


	5. You Haven't Seen My Dignity Around Here ...

Author's Note: Well I guess I am just in a writing frenzy today! I finally plotted out this story in full, and if I do say so myself, came up with some good titles for the chapters. I am hoping to keep this story moving, but since it doesn't really leave people hanging as much as some of my other ones, I figure I can slack off a little bit. The characters don't belong to me – but they should.

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I should have kept my big mouth shut.

            Why, oh why, am I always the one to jump in with my conclusions or thoughts on a case without stopping to think first? I really need to develop a better internal monologue, at least in regards to my work. Because right now, I am the one who blurts out the first thing that pops into my head, without stopping to look at the big picture. I am the one who jumps to conclusions. This might not be so terrible if my conclusions were right once in a while, but unfortunately for me, they are almost always wrong. So instead of looking like the clever and wise one, I looked like a first class fool. It's not that I can't stop to think about the facts, but rather that I don't feel that I have that window of opportunity. See, I really want to impress Grissom. Ever since I started here, my only real purpose was to make him proud. Gil Grissom is not an easy man to impress. The few times I do something right, I barely get any acknowledgement. Yet despite the obvious brush off, I come back for more. I am determined to make him stand back and go, Wow, Nick really knows what he's talking about. Sadly, the most I managed to do today was irritate him and have him tell me to go and take some time to think before I opened my mouth again. It wouldn't have been so bad except Catherine was there too, and I got the same disappointed, maybe even mildly annoyed vibe from her too. What was it she told me when I was leaving? Oh yeah. "He who jumps to conclusions falls to his death". Ugh. It's bad enough when Grissom waxes philosophical but to hear Catherine do it makes me feel like an even bigger screw up.

            You know, sometimes I really resent the fact that they both think its ok to treat me like I am a little kid. I mean, I understand that as my superiors they have every right to tell me when I make a mistake. But really, is it necessary to make me feel like a child getting reprimanded by his parents? Eww. Gil and Cat as my parents. Now there is a scary image that I won't soon erase from my head. Anyways, before I went down the path of creepiness, I was thinking that I really need to start standing up for myself more. I mean, honestly now, I am a grown man. So why am I reduced to a scolded puppy anytime they tell me that I need to think before I speak? I should be able to speak up and tell them that, yeah I was wrong, but I am only batting around possibilities. And that I am trying to take their advice. But instead I will sit there and think about what I've done wrong.

Maybe I am just not as worldly as they are. They've both seen everything there is to see and then some. And it's not like they're infallible. God knows that Grissom has screwed up before, and so has Catherine. But somehow they always manage to come away looking like the heroes. I guess deep down I wish I could be more like them. Maybe it's my roots. I am the small town boy. Maybe if I had grown up in a world that was less trusting I would be better at thinking things through. But no, I have to be the trusting one. I get to be the one that gets himself into hot water because he thinks he has it all figured out. I know I am pretty good CSI but God how I wish I could be more pragmatic when it comes to sifting through information. Like tonight. I really should have thought things through before-

"Nick?"

"Oh hey Archie, what's up?"

He plunks himself down next to me. "Listen, I just finished working on that security tape from the crime scene you guys were at tonight. And Ted Farron, you know 'Mr. I-was-nowhere-near-there', well, he's seen on the tape. I know Grissom said that he couldn't have been there, but I'm guessing that Farron's 'airtight' alibi was a cover. I had to enhance the, but it's definitely him. He's running away from the crime scene, and the time shows it as the same time when he was supposedly at the office. And what's more, he's definitely carrying a gun – probably the one that shot your victim."

My heart races. "Seriously?"

Archie grins. "Yeah bro. You're suspicions were right on the money. I've already called Grissom and Catherine. They are going over with Brass to Farron's place with a search warrant as we speak."

"Thanks Arch." Well what do you know. I was right after all. Maybe it's not so bad that sometimes I go with my gut instinct. Now this Farron character is in serious trouble. My hunch paid off in the end.

They say "He who jumps to conclusions falls to his death"

But sometimes you land on your feet.


	6. Boys Are Stupid

Author's Note: I probably should have updated this story weeks ago, but better late then never, right? I don't know what motivated me to get back into this story at this time - but I think the fact that I have only had four and a half hours of sleep may be giving me some kind of manic energy. If you like what you read, please review. If you don't, please be kind!

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All the good ones are gone.

There is not a single good man left out there, I'm sure of it. They are either already with someone, or they are so commitment-phobic that there is no point in making much of an effort in pursuing them. It seems to be a statistical fact that the number of "good" men is far lower than the number of women seeking said men. This of course means that we are now entering into the negative integers when it comes to relationships. Women, such as myself, are left with the unenviable task of weeding through the "bad" men with the faint hope that there may be one more of the good ones that got left behind by mistake. I am reminded of the fairy tale where the princess kisses the frog and then he turns into a handsome prince. Everything worked out for her in the end, but they never tell you how many frogs she had to kiss before she found the one that turned into Prince Charming. For all we know, she spent an eternity down in the ponds trying to round up amphibious creatures so that she could get the one that wasn't going to leave her with a bad taste in her mouth. Maybe they should have enclosed some kind of timeline with that fairy tale, because I want to know how many more frogs I have to kiss before one of them turns out to be something magical.

I hate sounding like the man-hater because really, I'm not. I like men. I just don't like their stupidity and insensitivity. I am even willing to overlook these less then desirable qualities from time to time but in light of recent events in my life, they are at the forefront of my mind. Much as I don't want to, I can't seem to stop thinking about Hank. I thought Hank could be my prince. Instead he was even lower down in the ecosystem than a frog. He turned out to be the pond scum. I feel like such a fool. How was I so blind? How could I not see that I was not the only woman in his life? So now I not only have the stigma of being "the other woman", but I have garnered the reputation that falls under the "last to know" category. I had no idea that Hank was serious with someone else. I knew that he wasn't serious with me, but I had hoped that he might like to be. But instead I was just someone who he could flirt with and keep him company on nights when his girlfriend worked. God, it makes me sick to think that I was little more than a bed buddy for him. There was no real emotional connection, I see that now. But for a minute I thought that I had found someone who was really interested in getting to know me.

That is what I really want you know. I don't want to go through life without someone who is fascinated by every facet of my being. I want someone who yearns to know more about who I am. And in return, I want to know everything there is to know about that person. But no matter how much attention I get, it is never the kind that I so desperately desire. I'm no dummy ok; I know that a lot of the guys here flirt with me. Heck, some of them may even be interested in going out with me. But not a single one of them tries to know me. They are content using their pretty words and innuendos to try and woo me. But the fact remains that they have no idea who I really am. I am just Sara, the single girl. Or I suppose to those that have found out, I am Sara, the other woman. Ugh! I hate that phrase yet it has being a staple of my vocabulary lately. I am thinking of just tattooing it on my forehead, since that is all I see when I look in the mirror anyway. I see a woman who was played by someone she thought was special. I bet Hank is laughing his ass off as he lies in sunny Tahiti with her right now. God I hope he gets a sunburn.

So I am back to where I started: the good ones are gone. The ones that I find instead are either two-timers like Hank, or half-hearted paramours like the guys from the lab. Man, sometimes I think that I will end up alone. Or as a crazy cat lady. Oh God.

Thankfully this pity party is broken up by the arrival of a visitor to the break room where I am mulling over my coffee. The visitor is a delivery man carrying a long, narrow white box. He looks at me.

"Sara Sidle?"

"That's me."

He hands me a form. "Delivery for you Miss Sidle. Please sign here."

I oblige and he nods his head politely as he leaves. I sit down at the table and open the box. 

I am assaulted by the sweet scent of the dozen white roses that are inside the box. I am amazed by this. I lift the flowers out and a card drops to the table. I pick it up and read these words:

_Sara_

_I was worried about you because you seem sort of down lately. I weaseled the truth out of Catherine. Please don't be angry at her._

_Sara, you are an amazing woman and you deserve better than the likes of Hank. If he is too blind to see what a great person you, that's his loss. But don't let it get you down. You deserve someone who treats you like a queen, and I know that there is a king out there somewhere for you._

_Be happy Sara. You deserve to be._

_Warrick_

Wow. This is a shocker. Warrick never struck me as the particularly sentimental and sensitive type, but I guess I read him wrong too. I can feel myself smiling and I can't seem to stop. Nor do I want the smile to fade.

I thought all of the good ones are gone.

Wrong again.


	7. 25 Hours a Day, 8 Days a Week

Author's Note: Long time no see! I know I have a ton of stories that are in dire need of completion, but I have had zero time lately as I am in my last year of university (*does a mini victory dance*). It's a small miracle that this story is seeing an update! As I find a moment of spare time ("Hello? Spare time? Where are you?") I will update my works. I hope that there are people out there who are still interested in my stories; if so, please indicate this with reviews. Since its been a while, let me remind you: I do not own CSI or any of its characters. 

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            I need a vacation from my life.

            I know I should count my blessings and all that, but sometimes I wish I could put my whole life on hold and just be someone else for a while. I wouldn't need to be someone rich and famous; just someone who doesn't require a Herculean effort to get through the day.

            It never used to be this hard you know. But lately my life is moving so fast that I have simply stopped trying to keep up. What's even more frightening then the lightening fast speed with which my life moves is the fact that it feels like it's spiraling out of control. And for a control freak like me, that is a terrifying prospect. I mean, if I can't control my life, what can I control?

            Now, much as I wish I could blame work for making my life this way, it's not. Outsiders might think that the hours I put in at work are the root cause of my stress and problems, but that is not the truth. The truth is my life is out of control because I let it get that way. One bad choice snowballed into another, and before I knew it, I was on the outside of my life looking in. I'm not certain that I can pinpoint that pivotal first mistake, but I do know that some of my more recent judgments have surely been a consequence of it.

            Like the explosion in the lab. On the list of stupid mistakes I've made, that definitely ranks in the top five. I still can't think about that day without shuddering at my own stupidity. I could have killed someone. I very nearly did. I have been trying to redeem myself with Greg ever since. He says that he forgives me, but I still can't seem to forgive myself. That's why I keep trying to draw him into my cases. He wants to learn, and I want to feel better about myself, so it's very natural that I utilize his talents. Oh, I would have helped him even if I hadn't almost killed him; I see a great deal of potential there. However, my motives are entirely self-serving, since all I can think about every time he works with me is that I have paid off another piece of my debt to him. Of course, the decision to use Greg's help instead of someone experienced has raised more than a few eyebrows and ruffled more than a few feathers.

            Especially Sara's.

            Ah, Sara. The way I have been acting towards her lately is another mistake of mine. I've been really harsh on her. I am critical to her face _and behind her back. I'm not sure which is worse: the fact that I cut her down as a peer, or the fact that I plant seeds of doubt in the mind of her superior. It's not that I doubt her abilities or work ethic. She is a very good CSI and she puts a hundred and ten percent effort into every case that she works on. No, I get critical about her because of Grissom. It's not because I have any feelings for Gil other than a deep friendship, I swear. It's not even because I think that if they got together it would be a terrible mismatch. In fact, I think that they are as compatible as two people can be. But the reason I worry is because if Grissom and Sara got together, I fear that they would end up the way Eddie and I did. I don't think that they would ever screw around on one another with someone else. But the fact of the matter is that they are already married - to their work. If they engaged in any sort of personal relationship that went beyond the lab, work would become the lover that comes between them. They would end up feeling violated and hurt, and I don't want that for either one of them. I don't want them to end up like Eddie and I - angry, bitter and jealous all of the time. I don't wish that for anyone. It's because of those fears that I try and drive a wedge between Sara and Grissom. I express certain misgivings about her to Grissom, trying to make him keep his distance. I hide my personal concerns under the guise of professional ones. I should let them make their own choices and mistakes, I know. But life around the lab has been so fragile lately that I fear one more crisis would break us completely._

            You think it ends there, right? Ha! If it's not work, it's the pathetic illusion of a personal life that is driving me away from myself. Since Eddie died, I haven't been able to even think about another man without feeling unfaithful to my deceased ex-husband. I don't know why I should feel that way, since Eddie and I were divorced for some time and out of love with one another for some time before _that. It's ridiculous to even think about, since Ed and I were barely on speaking terms while he was still alive. Yet I still feel guilty for even thinking about dating someone else now that Eddie is gone. Then I start feeling angry, because even in death Eddie is interfering with my life. Then I start feeling guilty again for feeling angry. And it goes around and around again until I am dizzy with emotion and don't even remember what I should be feeling at the moment. _

            That's why I need a vacation from my life for a while. Let me escape somewhere where the sun shines all the time on me. Let the dark clouds roll away from my horizon. Give me some respite from the weariness and the anger. Give me some solitude from everything, even my thoughts. Give me a break from my worries. Give me the sunshine back.

            I am daydreaming of this idyllic vacation instead of working, which is how Brass finds me some time later. He waves his hand in front of my face to get my attention, which startles me, which leads to me spilling coffee all over the table and floor. Surprise, surprise - another mess in the life of Catherine.

"Geez, sorry Cat. I didn't mean to startle you." he apologizes as he helps me clean up. "What were you thinking about anyways?"

"A vacation. A nice, long vacation."

"I hear that. But I don't think I'll be seeing one of those until the next time the Red Sox win the pennant. No rest for the wicked I guess."

I smile at his grumblings. I'm used to them by now. Brass and I commiserate about the job all the time.

"So what can I do for you, oh wicked one?" I ask.

He grins. "Actually, nothing. I found this a minute ago, as I was cleaning my desk, and I thought you might want it."

He hands me a photograph. I recognize it immediately. It was from the most recent holiday party. Everyone in the lab is there, smiling brightly. Perhaps a little too brightly, an effect of too much drink and laughter that evening. Lindsay is sitting on my lap, looking as innocent as only a child can look. Everyone is so happy in that picture. I am suddenly overcome with joy and wonder at the people I have in my life. I look at Brass.

"Thank you" I say, staring at the photo. He touches my arm.

"Don't mention it. Now get back to work"

I laugh as he leaves. I take the photo and hurry to the locker room, where I immediately tape it to the inside of my door so that those smiling faces can greet me at the start of every shift and bid me farewell when I leave.

            So there are some things wrong with my life right now. But there are an awful lot of things right with it too. The photo proves that. I guess you just have to take the bad with the good. I remember a quote I read once, though the author escapes me: Everything will be okay in the end. If it's not okay, then it's not the end.

            Sure, a vacation from my life would be nice. And some sunshine would be a nice change from the clouds that have been hovering over me. But I need those clouds too. They teach me lessons and allow me to grow as a person.

            Besides, even the sun burns if you get too much of it.


End file.
